Winter Cold
by Saint Mirror
Summary: /Bastogne/ Winters and Nixon discuss reasons for fighting the war one cold night in Nixon's foxhole... /cruddy summary I know, but it's better than it sounds I hope/


A/N: First off I want to apologize; though I've read several of the books about this extraordinary company of men and their for the most part outstanding officers, I'm still not sure on exactly what Richard D Winters' rank was when Easy Company was at Bastogne, but for the sake ofmy mind, I'm going to say he was a Captain and if he wasn't could someone please tell me so that i might fix it?

Winter Cold

Captain Lewis Nixon was tired. The bone deep weariness that often accompanied war had finally caught up with him and –huddled freezing in his foxhole- did nothing to help remind him of why he was fighting this war.

He settled deeper in the foxhole, securely wrapping his almost paper-thin blanket around his numb body. He drifted between cold awareness and warm oblivion until the crunch of boots in snow put him firmly in the cold. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he looked up to see Captain Dick Winters lowering himself in his foxhole. He couldn't bring his frozen body to move and gladly suffered through Winters shifting him around until they were both comfortable.

Nixon's hand absentmindedly stroked the top of his empty flask. What he wouldn't give for a swig of his beloved Vat 69 to warm him up right now! But he was fairly certain that what had been in his flask was the last of it until the Company moved to a richer area where he might find some…or at least until he lifted the rest of his stash from Dick.

All of Easy Company was silent under the howling of the wind.

"I thought you might want some of this. From the way you're fingering that flask, I'd say you've been without for at least two hours." Nixon scowled, not so much annoyed that it'd taken Dick so long to give his precious drink to him as amused at the faint laugh he heard in his friend's voice. Dick had so little to smile about these days that Nix would gladly be the object of his amusement if it would keep something besides coldness from permeating Winters' pale eyes.

"What's the occasion? Usually you let me get it myself." Even as he says this, his fingers are closing over the neck of the bottle and prying the lid off, raising the three-quarters full bottle to his lips. Winters watched his companion a few moments, listening to the muffled sound of the winter winds rushing through sleeping trees, enjoying the flush of color the alcohol brought to Nix's cheeks before replying.

"You've been in top form lately, especially with the way things have been going so I thought I'd bring the bottle to you for once. Plus this way all my things won't be all over the place from your getting to your stash." Nix chuckled lowly around the mouth of the bottle before lowering it and mockingly offering it to Winters. As expected, Dick wrinkled his nose and pushed the bottle back to Nix rather firmly. Dick had never been one to drink, and even now, in the cold French winter, he held to that. Nix shrugged and refilled his flask for later.

Winters stared hard at his friend feeling the slow burn of their friendship warm him from the pit of his belly to the roots of his red hair. Already they had been through too much together to feel like 'just friends'; their bond was deeper, much deeper, than mere friendship. Dick noticed belatedly that the sparkle that had entered Nix's eyes at seeing his present had already faded to the dullness so visible in his eyes since coming to this cold, cold place.

Nix rested his head against the sides of the foxhole and sighed wearily. Winters shared his sentiments exactly.

"Why are we here, Dick?" Winters started, surprised that he had failed to realize Lewis was awake; he'd thought for sure that his sigh signaled his intent to sleep. Apparently not. His pale eyes narrowed as he processed the question.

"What do you mean, Nix? You know orders are orders…" Winters trailed off when Nix began to violently shake his head.

"No! _Why_ are we here? What made us –you, me, everyone else- sign up? Just what the hell are we fighting for everyday?" The winter cold muted Nixon's words preventing them from slinking through Easy Company and further destroying what morale was left to them. Winters grabbed both Nixon's shoulders and gave him his infamous 'look'. He knew he had no real answer that would satisfy Nixon's question and bring him from the brink of the abyss his friend was toeing, but he knew he had to say something, anything, to keep Nix from letting go.

"If you can't think of any better reason to keep going, Nix, then please…fight for Easy Company. Fight for us. Fight for me, and for God's sake remember we fight for each other…_always_." He let go of his friend, and Nixon nodded slowly as he resumed his former position. The dead look didn't quite disappear, but some of Dick's words seemed to have reached Nix on some level.

"That'll have to be enough then, I guess." They both sighed, proof of their lives billowing out in voluminous clouds. Winters gazed up into the unforgiving sky.

"It'll have to be enough." The prayer rose up to Heaven as Nix took another swig of Vat 69.

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-- Well what do you think? This is my first foray into this fandom and I hope it wasn't a complete failure.


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